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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336544">More Questions Than Answers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianparrish/pseuds/magicianparrish'>magicianparrish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard College/University AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, and she has a lot of questions, nile is a university student, professor! nicky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:54:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianparrish/pseuds/magicianparrish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nile walked out of the class with more questions than answers. When she saw Booker, he asked her how it was going with Nicky, and all she had to say back was “interesting.” Which allowed Booker to have a victorious smirk on his face.</p><p>_________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Nile decides to take a class that Nicky teaches. She tends to have more questions than answers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman &amp; Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Nile Freeman &amp; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard College/University AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>261</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>More Questions Than Answers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this was based off a screenshot of an email from a college professor that made me laugh, and then I went "what if I make it part of this au?" and then this happened. </p><p>It's part of a series, so if you want to read "When I Kissed the Teacher" first you can. This can be a stand-alone too, but it's better if you read that one first! </p><p>(Not edited or beta'd so all mistakes are mine)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Nile first told Booker that she had decided to take a class with Nicky, he nearly choked on the coffee he had been drinking. It was a simple black mug that read ‘Born to Read, Forced to Work’ in bold white letters. A student of his long ago when he first started working at the university had given it to him as a semi-gag gift, and Booker had kept it. It was his designated “work mug” that he always kept in his drawer in his office. </p><p>Nile had worried about him for a moment, as he coughed his lungs out and then proceeded to take another sip, hoping it would help him. When he finally managed to breathe again, he just pursed his lips, leaning back in his leather chair. </p><p>“<em> Why </em>?” he asked, shaking his head, and running a hand through his ashy blonde hair. </p><p>She had shrugged her shoulders, leaning back in her own chair that was on the other side of his desk. The desk that was covered in books, others much more wore out than others and surrounded by photos of his wife and three sons. That she had yet to meet. Not that she was keeping track or anything. </p><p>“I don’t know, it seems fun. I like history enough, and I wanna take a class that is not focused solely on art history. And who knows maybe I’ll learn something for this potential doctoral dissertation,” she replied.</p><p>They shared a small laugh. It had become a kind of a joke between them, and Booker’s little group of professor friends. The fact that they all wanted Nile to apply for a Ph.D. program at their school so they can fight over who would be her mentor. Andy and Joe had been making their cases quite clear recently, while Nicky and Booker tended to let them duke it out from the sidelines. Nile thought that Nicky cooking delicious home-cooked meals were his way of subtly bribing her; she couldn’t be sure though. Nile could never get a good read on the man. </p><p>Booker didn’t look convinced at her explanation though. He just raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth before closing it again. He shook his head and then hid his face behind his mug as he took another long sip of his coffee. Nile narrowed her eyes at him. </p><p>“What?” she demanded. </p><p>“Nothing. Nothing,” he defended, shrugging his shoulders. </p><p>“Do you think I shouldn’t take a class with Nicky?” </p><p>Booker rolled his chair away from the desk a little. “I’m not saying anything, <em> mon amie </em>. You do whatever it is you like.” </p><p>“As my advisor, I think you are entitled to tell me if you think I shouldn’t take a class.” </p><p>The older Frenchman pursed his lips as he placed his mug on his desk, allowing him to cross his arms. Some of his hair flopped over his face. </p><p>“That is a correct assumption, and trust me I am not hesitant with that. But in the end, it is your own university experience and your money. You do what it is you want to do.” </p><p>Nile leveled an unamused look to her friend, mentor, and advisor. All three wrapped in one. “You never answered my question.” </p><p>“And I say you will not get one. I must prep for my class in a few minutes,” he said, pulling out a drawer and a stack of papers that must have been the syllabi. It landed with a hard THUD! Nile knew a kind dismissal when she saw one. She stood up from her chair and grabbed her bag throwing it over her shoulder. </p><p>“I will leave you with this though,” Booker said as he was bent down looking for something. “Nicky is an acquired taste.” </p><p>Nile had already met Nicky in a classroom. When she had taken a class with Joe, an art professor, and Nicky had posed as a student. She had been paired up for a group assignment with him, which left Nile cursing him out over text message and nearly pulling her hair out. Not knowing that he was actually a professor at the university, but also was married to Joe. It had been a weird time. </p><p>“How bad can it be?” she asked. </p><p>Booker scoffed. “Famous last words, Nile,” he warned as she waved goodbye and walked out of his office. </p><hr/><p>Because Nile had the habit of not being to mind her own business, and a deep-seated curiosity inside of her, she went onto one of those rate your professor websites to see what had been said about Nicky. She had gotten to know the man from Genoa over the past few months, and she enjoyed his company. He was quiet, but he had a startling sharp wit about him and perfect comedic timing. And of course, he was not bad on the eyes either. </p><p>She filtered her search by going straight to the history department. When she saw Nicky’s name, she clicked on it, which brought her to his page. He had a very high rating, a 4.4 out of 5. And surprisingly most people said they would take a class with him again. </p><p>“What the hell was Booker talking about?” she muttered to herself. </p><p>The first review read: “Dr. diGenova is a saint.” Which had Nile snorting, because the irony wasn’t lost on her. A professor of history, with a special interest in theology and religion being called a saint. </p><p>A lot of it was waxing poetic about how much he cares for his students, and that it’s obvious that he wants all of them to succeed. It was all very complimentary, and it seemed on par for what Nile knew about Nicky. The only true complaint that she saw was that it was hard to get in contact with him unless you showed up to the designated office hours. Nile nodded empathetically, remembering how she couldn’t seem to get a response from him during their group project. </p><p>“He’s a bit of a wild card. You never know what’s going to happen. But that’s half the fun!” another review read. </p><p>Nile hummed in contemplation. It didn’t seem to be on par with the Nicky she knew. But she would just have to find out when she showed up to his class tomorrow at eleven. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nile’s initial thought after going to her first class with Nicky was that she needed to go see Booker and ask what the fuck he was on about when it came to Nicky and his classes. He made it seem as if Nicky was the worst professor in the world, and that Nile would want to die by the end of the semester. </p><p>She had walked in and Nicky had already been in the front of the room, setting up the projector and slides for the day. When he saw her, he gave her one of his small smiles and a soft greeting. </p><p>“Hello, Nile,” he had said, taking his eyes off the computer screen. </p><p>He looked as he always did. A light scruff on his face, and always having to tuck a piece of his brown hair behind his ear, and two small silver hoops in his ears. He wore a white t-shirt, and had a black hoodie over, and wore khaki-colored pants with his sneakers. </p><p>“Hey Nicky,” she said back waving. “Or should I call you Dr. diGenova here?” </p><p>It was a serious question. She knew him as Nicky, but this was a professional setting. She was in his class as his student. Nicky only gave a breathy chuckle. </p><p>“Nicky is fine, Nile,” he replied. But then he leaned in. “Just don’t tell the other students.” </p><p>They shared a smile as Nile took her seat, and grabbed one of the syllabi from the desk. It was very neat and structured. Nicky had laid his expectations clearly on the paper, and all the assignments they would be completing, and the dates. He had the exams and papers and homework listed out in a nice calendar format. And when class began, Nicky went through it thoroughly and fielded questions with the ease and patience of...well a saint. Nile felt that the class would be a nice breeze and a break from her other ones. </p><p>And it was going smoothly for the first few weeks. Then she got an email from Nicky in the middle of the afternoon. The subject line was Trail Mix Attack, which had her furrowing her eyebrows together as she opened it. </p><p>
  <em> Hello,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I was grading your papers and eating some trail mix this afternoon when a total catastrophe occurred. I spilled my trail mix and it went all over the papers on my desk. There may still be some remnants of my delicious snack on your papers. If any of you have a severe peanut/tree nut allergy, please email or call my office so I know to thoroughly decontaminate your papers so none of you go into anaphylactic shock and die when I hand them back to you next class.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sorry. (For the accident of spilling it, not eating the trail mix.)   </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Grazie, </em> </p><p>Nicolò diGenova, Ph.D </p><p>Department Chairperson, Professor of History </p><p>321 Hawkins Hall </p><p><a href="mailto:nidigenova@oguni.edu"> nidigenova@oguni.edu </a> </p><p>(555)-xxx-xxxx ext. 0402 </p><p> </p><p>Nile had read over the email not once, but twice. Just to make sure that she was not imagining it. It seemed so ridiculous. The wording was absurd. But it was also extremely caring and it made Nile happy to see that Nicky was worried enough about an innocent accident to email his entire section about it. Thankfully Nile was not allergic to peanuts or tree nuts of any kind, so she did not have to worry about calling or emailing him. </p><p>Once that email came, things started to spiral down from there. At the beginning of October, they had started to talk about the Crusades, which seemed to be Nicky’s true specialty. The man got energetic talking about it, and it was clear he was passionate. And he taught it in a way that made sure they understood the nuances and complexity of the history, and he didn’t shy away from pushing uncomfortable points to the front to be confronted. It was a very serious topic, and it had been a very serious subject until the end. </p><p>It was then that Nicky had taken out a truly authentic sword, and unsheathed it. It glinted in the fluorescent light of the classroom as everyone stared in shock, as Nicky held it as it belonged right in the palm of his hand. Then he took out a pumpkin from behind the podium and put it on a desk that was in the front of the class. </p><p>“Is that real?” a student blurted out. </p><p>Nicky gave a little smirk. “Sì. Modeled on an authentic eleventh-century sword. Extremely sharp, and very much real.” </p><p>Nile was rendered speechless. Why in the hell did Nicky just have a real-life sword just hanging around? And why did he elect to bring it to class? What was he going to do with it? </p><p>“This is one of the types of weapons you would’ve seen the Franks, as they were known as by many at the time, wielding during their crusade through Anatolia and the Levant,” he explained. </p><p>He looked at his class, taking in their various degrees of awe. “Do you want to see me slice this pumpkin in half?” </p><p>An eruption of “fuck yeah!” and “holy shit!” came through. Nicky held his hands up in a placating gesture, which quieted them down. </p><p>“Okay, okay,” he said, amused. “You can see how powerful this weapon could be, in the right hands.” </p><p>Nicky set the large pumpkin where he wanted it, and then grabbed the sword. His green eyes were focused sharply. Nile felt herself holding her breath. Nicky wielded the sword with the expertise of someone who had experience with it as he slashed down hard, cutting the pumpkin clean in half, but also going right into the wooden table. </p><p>The class cheered in the awesome display of power, but Nicky started to curse in Italian as he realized the sword had gone into the table leaving a not so small mark. He was able to pull the sword out, but Nile could see the slice where it had gone into the wood and had to stifle a laugh. </p><p>“That was awesome Dr. diGenova!” a boy exclaimed behind him. </p><p>Nicky had put the sword on the table and had his hands on his hips as he still looked at the table. He gave a small bow. </p><p>“<em> Grazie, grazie </em>. Though I now must deal with my consequences of again damaging more university property,” he commented. </p><p>“This has happened before?” Nile blurted out, without thinking. </p><p>“Yes. This is not the first time I have cut into a table for this demonstration. And I believe it will not be the last.”</p><p>Nile raised her eyebrows but elected not to comment anymore. At least out loud. </p><p>“You are free to go. Have a great weekend,” Nicky dismissed with a smile. </p><p>Nile walked out of the class with more questions than answers. When she saw Booker, he asked her how it was going with Nicky, and all she had to say back was “interesting.” Which allowed Booker to have a victorious smirk on his face. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nile wasn’t sure if she was angrier at herself for not checking her email that morning, or the fact that the email came just ten minutes before class was due to begin. She had walked all the way to the building she was supposed to be in, only to see that the door was locked and the lights were off. And no one else was there. It was then that she whipped out her phone to check her email and saw one from Nicky. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hello,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I do not have a ride to work today, as my husband took our shared car to a conference out of town today. I refuse to pay $30 for an Uber ride, so class will be canceled for today. Lucky for you that gives you another two days to get your acts together to hand in the paper that was originally due today. If you already did it, just drop it under my door and I’ll get it tomorrow. Or if you find the TA give it to him and he will do that work for you. (That’s what he gets paid to do anyway). Enjoy your day off from me.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Grazie. </em> </p><p>Nicolò diGenova, Ph.D </p><p>Department Chairperson, Professor of History </p><p>321 Hawkins Hall </p><p><a href="mailto:nidigenova@oguni.edu"> nidigenova@oguni.edu </a> </p><p>(555)-xxx-xxxx ext. 0402 </p><p> </p><p>Nile cursed colorfully, that would’ve made her mother want to wash her mouth out with soap. She had just trekked all the way to campus only to find that she could’ve just stayed in bed, being warm instead. Nicky had her number for God’s sake. </p><p>“He could’ve texted me!” she complained to herself. </p><p>She simmered in her annoyance for a few more minutes, before she decided to treat herself at the local coffee shop in the student union center. She deserved it. And then she would drop off the paper under his office door, and maybe write a passive-aggressive note on a post-it and leave it on top of her paper about the beauty of texting. </p><p>When she got that paper back a week later, it was covered in red pen marks, a good grade, and a light purple stain that was circled with an arrow pointing to it, and in Nicky’s scratchy handwriting “sorry, I was drinking wine and Joe tickled me.” Nile couldn’t believe this guy had three degrees. And was the head of the history department. </p><p>It was the day before Halloween, when Nile again, got an odd email from Nicky in her inbox. After her little “not checking the email” fiasco she hooked up her email to her Apple watch to ding every time she got an email from a professor so she always knew. The familiar little ping went off as she checked the email. The subject line was just written as Quiz 8. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hello,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Whether you actually watch the news or just saw it on social media, you are probably already aware that my TA shot a man in the foot this evening. I had given him the quizzes to grade because I wanted some quality time with my husband this weekend, and it didn’t take much brainpower to do as it was a simple short answer. Therefore, as he had the assignments at his apartment, and it is now a crime scene, quiz 8 will be dropped. From what I have heard, it’s probably for the best anyway. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hopefully, my headache goes away and I can still salvage my weekend with my husband. I will see you Monday.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Grazie, </em> </p><p>Nicolò diGenova, Ph.D </p><p>Department Chairperson, Professor of History </p><p>321 Hawkins Hall </p><p><a href="mailto:nidigenova@oguni.edu"> nidigenova@oguni.edu </a> </p><p>(555)-xxx-xxxx ext. 0402   </p><p> </p><p>Nile just sighed as she read it. She would definitely be asking questions when she saw Nicky and Joe at their little Halloween party they were throwing that night. Halloween was always a fun day for Nile. She always enjoyed dressing up, and going trick or treating with her brother. She had decided to put that art degree to use and was going as Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring. She had created her own frame to go around her as she got dressed and did her makeup, and put in the pearl earrings that her grandmother had given her years ago. </p><p>When she was finished she took an Uber to the house. It wasn’t nearly as expensive as Nicky had claimed it to be that one time he didn’t have his car. When she arrived, the driveway and street were already parked with cars, and she could see people mingling on the porch outside the front door. She knocked on the door and waited a minute before she saw Andy open the door. She was dressed in a black and gray pinstripe suit, with her black hair slicked back and a small mustache penciled on. Andy was the only person Nile knew who could pull that look off so well. </p><p>“Where’s your Morticia?” Nile asked with a smile. </p><p>Andy rolled her eyes ushering Nile inside. “Get in here. Nice costume kid. Joe’s gonna freak.” </p><p>The house wasn’t nearly as crowded as she thought it was. It was a decent amount of people just milling around. Nile slowly took in the place. It was a beautiful apartment. Filled with paintings of all kinds, and bookshelves filled top to bottom. It was very lived in, and very loved from what she could see. Photos of Joe and Nicky were on the walls, and dispersed were Andy, Booker, and Quýnh. Music was filling the room along with the chatter of the attendees of the party, as Andy brought her to the kitchen. On the table were a variety of small finger foods, and candy, and of course alcohol. </p><p>Quýnh was sitting at a barstool, drinking some red wine from a stem glass. Her black hair was parted in the middle and flowed freely down her shoulders. She was in a beautiful black dress that had a low cut that was just toeing the line of sexy and risqué. Quýnh saw Nile and her face lit up in a smile. </p><p>“Nile, so glad to see you again. You look beautiful! What a great costume!” she exclaimed as she engulfed her in a hug. </p><p>“Thank you. You look great too, Quýnh.” </p><p>She scoffed waving her hand off. “Oh, this was nothing, really.” </p><p>Joe came into the kitchen, dressed as a cowboy. He had a big smile. “Ah, I think I heard the voice of my future Ph.D. candidate!” </p><p>Nile rolled her eyes but allowed Joe to come in and hug her as well. She missed seeing him throughout the semester. Joe then started to play host and got Nile a beer from a cooler to give to her which she took graciously. </p><p>“Where’s Nicky?” she wondered. </p><p>“Playing host, and getting more food ready to serve,” Joe explained. </p><p>Nile looked at the table of food that was already covering every inch. Joe laughed and nodded his head, reading her thoughts. </p><p>“I know. But it’s the Italian side of him emerging. He had two plates of baked ziti in the oven right now.” </p><p>“Wow.” </p><p>The email and the general chain of events from the semester came into Nile’s head. She looked over at Joe who was casually popping a mini snickers into his mouth. </p><p>“Can I ask you a question?” </p><p>He turned toward her, still chewing it but nodded his head. </p><p>“Is your husband alright?” she asked. </p><p>Joe raised his eyebrows and stopped for a moment. He then covered his mouth with his hand. </p><p>“I believe so. Why do you ask?” </p><p>“He sent an email this morning, and it was just maybe a little concerning,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. </p><p>“Ah,” Joe said nodding his head. “The TA incident. Yes, he’s fine for now. The stress of that probably is what spurred him to make all this food. He stress cooks you know.”</p><p>Nile did not know that, but she would definitely keep it in mind. “His odd emails don’t seem to be an isolated occurrence though.” </p><p>Joe shrugged. “Yes, you get used to it. I don’t know how he’s managed to trick everyone into thinking he’s cool and collected all the time. The man is a bit of a chaotic storm in the making.” </p><p>He chuckled as he recalled some memories. “Did I ever tell you how we met?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“Well, he told me he had been stalking me for six months and thought I was dating Andy. And when he discovered I wasn’t he asked me out on a date,” Joe described. “Booker and Andy called him Stalker Man for the first year they knew him.” </p><p>“Psh, no way,” Nile scoffed. </p><p>Booker entered in at that time, dressed as a stereotypical Musketeer. “No, that's a true story. We did call him that.” </p><p>“Which Musketeer are you?” Nile asked. </p><p>Booker shrugged and took a sip from his silver flask. “Whatever one gets to be with Milady de Winter tonight,” he said with a smirk. </p><p>Joe rolled his eyes but had a smile. “So Athos.” </p><p> It took Nile a moment to realize what he meant. “Your wife is here?” </p><p>“Yeah, Lorraine is somewhere, being the social butterfly she is.” </p><p>“Will I finally get to meet her?” </p><p>Booker shrugged his shoulders. “Who’s to say? So what are you two talking about?” </p><p>Joe wrapped an arm around Nile pulling her close. “Nile here was worried about Nicky because of the weird emails he sends to his students.” </p><p>“What did I say Nile?” Booker sing-songed. </p><p>“I think he’s a perfectly fine professor! His lectures are great, and his assessments are fair. It just always throws me off a little when he sends emails like how he’s not paying thirty bucks for an uber to campus, or he spilled trail mix all over our papers and didn't want any students to die who had a nut allergy, or that he spilled wine on my paper because Joe over here tickled him while he was drinking and grading.” </p><p>“Did he do the sword demonstration yet?” Booker inquired. </p><p>Nile nodded, taking a sip of her beer. “Yeah and he complained about damaging school property again.” </p><p>“Sounds right for him,” Joe said nodding. “He always does it anyway because he knows it gains him cool points with the students and a reputation.” </p><p>“And he just loves playing with that thing,” Booker added. </p><p>“Also true,” Joe said. </p><p>“So, just so we’re clear. He’s always like this?” </p><p>“Every semester,” Booker said. </p><p>Nile leaned back in her chair. “Huh.” </p><p>“Just wait until finals start coming. That’s when he starts to get a bit crazy because he has a lot of different deadlines coming at him at once,” Joe explained. “Just don’t be freaked out if he sends an email being like <em> ‘against my best wishes I’ve been shot, and Joe has cheated me, that bastard. </em>’” </p><p>Joe did a near-perfect imitation of Nicky. He and Booker shared a good laugh together before turning back to Nile who felt mildly horrified and very confused. </p><p>“He’ll leave out details like, he’s been shot by <em> paintballs </em> or we went airsofting, and Joe cheated on him because he is a cheater at board games during game night,” Booker said. </p><p>“That’s not true,” Joe denied. </p><p>“Yes, it is,” Booker said without skipping a beat. “And everyone knows it. The point is, Nicky does not do details well, whether it’s because he purposely  likes to fuck with his students or he really just can’t be bothered to explain the whole story.” </p><p>It didn’t really make Nile feel all that much better, but at least it clarified the why of it. Nicky then chose that time to come into the kitchen. He was in full Roman soldier regalia, armor and all. He had a helmet that had a red plume on it, and Nile was only fifty percent sure that the sword strapped to his side was the real sword he liked to apparently play with. </p><p>“Ciao, Nile,” Nicky breathed out. He looked flustered as he went to the over and pulled on a glove. He pressed some buttons and opened the door to take the two trays of ziti he had been baking out and onto the counter. He lifted the tinfoil off both to see and nodded, muttering to himself in Italian. </p><p>“Nicky, are you okay?” Joe asked, tilting his head, and giving love eyes to his husband. </p><p>“Sì, molto bene,” Nicky replied, but he wasn’t paying attention to them. He started to get paper plates and knives and forks out. And then just as fast as he was in, he stalked out, a bright red cape flowing in his wake. Joe sighed. </p><p>“I better go help him before he has an aneurysm,” he said. He put a hand on Nile’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Enjoy the party, I will see you sometime tonight I am sure.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p>When Nile again got the ping on her watch, she read the subject line. Class Cancelled.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hello,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There will be no class today, and therefore no essay for you to write for me. Against my best wishes, I have been shot. I also seem to have caught a nasty cold, so whoever gave it to me thank you a lot. I have also discovered my husband is a dirty cheater, so I hope unlike him I hope you will not cheat this essay exam when I see you next. I can do virtual office hours at the usual time, or you can try and find the TA and bother him with your questions. If I am alive, the essay exam will be on Monday. Keep reviewing your texts, and your notes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I hope you have a better weekend than me.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Grazie, </em> </p><p>Nicolò diGenova, Ph.D </p><p>Department Chairperson, Professor of History </p><p>321 Hawkins Hall </p><p><a href="mailto:nidigenova@oguni.edu"> nidigenova@oguni.edu </a> </p><p>(555)-xxx-xxxx ext. 0402  </p><p> </p><p>Nile screenshot the email on her phone and sent the photo to Joe. And then he sent it to Booker as well.  <em> You have got to be fucking kidding me </em>. </p><p>She could not believe that Joe and Booker had predicted this email almost to the letter. Joe replied first with a bunch of crying laughing emojis. Booker had just said: <em> told you </em>. Nile had decided that she liked Nicky as a person a lot. And she thought he was a great professor, but she would not take another class with him again.        </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you all enjoyed it! I like the idea that Nicky is lowkey a chaotic mess, and he sends crazy emails like that, even though people love him anyway. Also the halloween costumes were inspired by the beautiful art polarcell on tumblr :)  </p><p>Drop some comments and kudos below! Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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